


Can't Find My Way Home

by saltandbyrne



Category: Supernatural, Supernatural RPF
Genre: Character Bleed, Comfort Sex, Emotional Sex, Frottage, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-31
Updated: 2019-03-31
Packaged: 2019-12-30 03:45:00
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,303
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18307523
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/saltandbyrne/pseuds/saltandbyrne
Summary: They’re as tangled up in Sam and Dean as they are in each other.





	Can't Find My Way Home

**Author's Note:**

> A little comfort fic for the end of SPN. This is J2 bleeding into Sam/Dean.
> 
> Title from the Blind Faith song of the same name.

“Because you’re my brother. Because ... you’re the only ... Fuck.”

Jared’s face crumples in on itself, the tears welling up in his eyes glinting in the set lights. Everyone but Jensen politely looks away. 

“Let’s take a break,” Phil sighs, a mild tinge of frustration in his voice. They’re on take five and Jared’s been like this all morning.  The crew breaks apart for the crafty table, stomping their feet for warmth and mumbling wisps of frozen complaint into the air. No shit, it’s cold. At least they get to wear real winter gear. Jensen’s not sure what deity had decided that the Winchesters are allergic to hats and scarves, but it could go step on a lego.   Jared sniffles, raising all the big-brother hackles Jensen’s grown on his neck over the years. 

“With me,” Jensen says under his breath, a soft growl that barely leaves his lips before Jared’s nodding. He follows Jensen to the warmth of his trailer without a word. 

“What’s going on with you?”

 Jensen barely has time to say it before Jared’s collapsed against his chest, his back curled so he can make himself smaller. His breath comes out ragged and wet against Jensen’s neck. 

 “I know,” Jensen says, petting his hand through Jared’s hair. “I know it’s been...”

 It’s been fucking hard. With the capital-letters Last Episode looming on the horizon, Jared’s been deteriorating in the million small ways that Jensen recognizes. You don’t spend 15 years loving someone without knowing all his tells. 

 “I know,” Jensen says, tucking his nose into the warm spot behind Jared’s ear. 

 Jared clings to him with all the spider-monkey affection he saves for closed doors and the privacy of their homes. That carved-in space in Jensen’s chest aches.  The hurt, the fear, the trepidation, the relief — it’s all there, a stoic mirror for the thousand emotions Jared’s soaking into Dean’s flannel shirt.

 “I can’t,” Jared says, shaking his head and wrapping his arms around Jensen’s chest. 

 “I don’t want to lose them.”

 They lead so many lives — a devotion to one another shared with only a select few, the public faces of their marriages and other business ventures, the joy and terror of fatherhood. Older than all of them, the bedrock at the base of lives so intertwined it would strangle most people, are two brothers who would give up the world just to save each other. 

 “Listen to me,” Jensen growls, pitching his voice down, shifting his body into the easy possession of Dean. He wraps his hands around Jared’s biceps, shakes him upright until they’re face to face and Jared can read the steel in his eyes. Jared’s red-rimmed eyes go wide, his face softening into the world-weary sweetness of the boy who saved the universe. 

 They’re as tangled up in Sam and Dean as they are in each other. 

 “You are never losing me.”

Dean kisses differently than Jensen. Every second stolen, every press of his lips laced with guilt and a lifetime of longing, every slip of his tongue a silent apology. 

“Never.”

He backs Jared up against the counter, runs his hands up under Sam’s shirts, all over that solid body that’s been to hell and back. He’s warm as a furnace, the heart of any home they stumble into. 

“I’m right here.”

Dean’s driving now. He molds himself to Jared’s body, slats himself in between those long legs and rolls his hips, half-hard from nothing more than ragged breath and a hint of skin. 

“I’m here, Sammy.”

_ Sammy _ , like honey in his mouth after all these years. He nuzzles into the sweetness of Sam’s neck, salt and grit and the soft powder of another life. 

“Dean.”

Sam tilts his head back, an invitation, an offering.  There’s so much grace trapped in that huge body. Dean traces over the sharp line of his jaw, dragging teeth over smooth skin and the promise of future stubble.  Sam arches into his touch, as much an instinct as breathing for both of them.

“I got you.”

Sam crashes back into him for a kiss, pushing blindly at Dean’s jacket, searching for skin and comfort. They fumble with buttons, blind and heedless as the first time they’d found each other.  Sam whines in his throat when Dean tugs at his belt. 

“I got you, little brother.”

With their shirts unbuttoned and their pants rucked down around their thighs, they might as well be naked.  Sam watches him, chest heaving, lips parted and flushed to that candy-store pink that gets Dean all kinds of fucked up inside. 

“Feel that?”

Dean strokes his cock, dragging his knuckles against the pressed-close heat of Sam, both of them straining hard and pearl-handled. Some things run in the family.  

“That’s all for you.”

Dean widens his grip, circles Sam’s fat cock next to his, growls at the catch of his cockhead against Sam’s. They line up perfectly, legs spread and backs arched just so, the wet architecture of a life spent too close. 

“Always for you, Sammy.”

With the slap-dash intimacy of backseats and backstage, Dean presses in close and claps his free hand over the back of Sam’s neck. He doesn’t have to say it.  _ Mine _ .  _ Always _ . 

“Dean, Dean, yeah,” Sam chants, voice cracked and beautiful, arms tugging Dean in so tight they can barely move. Their foreheads press together, breath mingling in matched concert, sweat and precome slicking between them as Sam’s hips start to stutter. 

“Come for me, Sammy.  Need to feel you.”

Dean tightens his grip with both hands, holding Sam close enough to bruise on both ends, like some temporary mark could ever encompass what the man in his arms means to him.  Sam trips over it first, choking on Dean’s name and spilling hot over his hand, a heart-pulse Dean can hear in his sleep. 

“Sammy.”

Sam’s eyes never leave his as Dean comes.  It roils out of his belly and leaves his legs shaking, sweat sticking to their shared skin, both of them gasping for breath.  Dean presses a shaky kiss to Sam’s mouth, open-lipped and smiling. Sammy always makes such a mess. 

Thankfully there’s a towel on the counter. He cleans them up, shushing Sam when he tries to help. This is his job, too, the clean-up, wading through the aftermath, big brother with the dirty hands and the loving touch. Kiss it better.   _ Watch out for my pain-in-the-ass little brother.  _

“Thank you.”

That towel’s going right into the trash the second he can think straight. Each breath steadies them, in and out as the world outside slides back into focus. Sam’s soft huffs fade, that small shift in the jaw bringing Jared back to him. Dean’s brow softens, his hands relaxing their grip until it’s just Jensen and Jared, taking a quick five in their trailer like any other day. 

Jensen tucks them both back into their clothes, smiling as Jared indulges him in a few stolen minutes of mother-henning.  Jared leans into him the second his last button is done up. 

“Everything’s gonna change,” Jared whispers into his hair, his voice small and soft. 

“Of course it will.”  Jensen swallows the tightness in his chest, slides his hand between them to press his palm over Jared’s huge, open heart. 

“But not this.”

Jensen lets Jared do the kissing this time. 

“You gonna be ok?”

Jared nods, stretching up to his full height and blowing out a long breath. 

“Yeah. Yeah, I am.  We should get back.”  

Jared looks down at himself, smoothing Sam’s plaid and grinning. 

“Do we look like we were fucking in your trailer?”

_ Yes _ .  Jensen shrugs and spreads his palms. 

“What are they gonna do, fire us?”

He grins at Jared and throws open the trailer door, letting in a blast of fresh, cold air. 

“Come on. We’ve got work to do.”

 


End file.
